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In the assisted care facility, Merle Douglas was wheeled into Dr. James Anderson's office.  Merle could walk at a slow pace, but it was easier for the orderlies and nurses to roll her in a wheelchair.  There was only so much time.

Merle was a woman in her eighties.  She had always been plus-sized and being wheeled around didn't help her weight problem.

"What seems to be wrong?" the doctor asked.

"Ms. Douglas refuses to take her medications, Doctor." Nurse Peta informed him.

"I see..  OK, I'll talk to her."

"Her ID also came off her wrist.  We don't know if she pulled it off or it fell off."

James looked more closely at Merle.  She didn't have the standard ID wristband.

"I'll have another made up.  I'll be back when it's done."

"Thank you."

James looked over Merle's file on the monitor in front of him.  She was admitted here after a car accident.  She veered off the road.   When her condition was investigated, several physical and mental conditions presented themselves at the hospital.  She was transferred to this care facility at a later date.  It was believed she could never live alone again.

Before James could greet her, Merle said, "I'm so sorry about this.  I really am.  But I need to get out of here."

"If you stop taking your medication that will be impossible.  If it wasn't for the medications we are giving you and the constant monitoring of your condition you would be in big trouble.  You are here for your own good."  James knew that with Merle's multiple ailments, living alone for her was impossible.

"I'm not saying this is a bad place.  But I have to get out of here.  The people are really nice.  Everyone is friendly.  I can see they really care about me."

"Then what's the problem?"  They had gotten off track. Merle was here because she refused to take her medication.  But something else was afoot.

"I told you I have to get out.  I like you.  I wish it didn't have to be you.  But it does.  You will help me."

"I'm trying to help you.  But, I can't just write on a form that you are healthy and you can just leave the premises.  That wouldn't be medically responsible of me."

"I know.  Someone has to stay.  It's not going to be me.  It's going to be you."

"What?"  The conversation had made a bizarre turn.  What Merle was saying didn't make any sense.  Not wanting to be here was rational.  But saying that they would switch places wasn't sane.

"You are going to help me?"

"I'm trying to help you.  You are not making any sense."

"Stand up and take off your clothes," Merle demanded.

"Merle, what's come over you?  He was about to check her chart one more time, but instead, he stood up.  He took his lab coat off, folded it and placed it onto his desk.  "What is happening?"

"I'm sorry.  I really am.  But I can't stay here."

"How are you doing this?"  James demanded although he didn't raise his voice.  His jacket was off and his pants were being pulled down.

"I just have to get out of here.  I'm sorry.  I don't have anything against you."

It was easier for Merle to undress than James, she was only wearing three articles of clothing and a pair of soft slippers.  She had on a nightgown, a bra, and a pair of white cotton briefs.  She could remove all without getting up out of the wheelchair.

"You have to stop this.  You are not well."

What James told her was true.  Her conditions had been stabilized with drugs, but if she left and wasn't monitored constantly she would relapse.  But that was beside the point, somehow she was manipulating him and he couldn't stop it.

"That is what you have been telling me.  I may have my problems, but they aren't too bad."

"You have to listen to me."

Merle ignored him and commanded, "Give me your clothes.  You put on mine."

Merle rose on unsteady feet.  She started to dress in James' apparel.  James had less difficulty putting on Merle's panties, bra, nightgown, and slippers.

"Now sit in the wheelchair," Merle told him when James was wearing her clothes.  James had no choice but to comply.  He found that he couldn't get up.  It wasn't that he wasn't physically capable, it was just then he couldn't make himself do it.

Merle dressed in his clothes sat then on the other side of the desk.  James comforted himself that once Peta returned, all would be put right.  All he had to do was wait.

"It's for your own good.  You need to be here," James said in a calm voice.

"The place is very nice.  I liked it here.  I hope you do too."

"If you like it then why do you want to leave?"

While James was talking, Merle was making an edit to her former record.  She swapped her picture on the record, with the doctor's picture on his personnel file.  She swapped their general descriptions too.  At the bottom of the what was now James' record, Merle added a notation that he preferred to wear female attire and authorized him to do so.  The rest of the record reflected Merle.  All the ailments as well as all the medications that were required.  Merle only added one additional item to the record, "delusions."

When Peta returned to the room, James was sitting in the wheelchair with Merle opposite him.  Given a moment of freedom, James tried to leap out of his seat and attack Merle.  Merle used her influence to prevent that attack from being successful and he crumpled to the ground.

"Peta, you have to help me.  Merle has gone nuts.  She..."

Merle called for orderlies to come.  James had to be sedated.

"Merle must have been avoiding taking her medication.  She should be medicated intravenously until her condition stabilizes.  Then steps must be taken to see that she is always properly medicated," Merle pronounced.

Peta returned the ID bracelet to his wrist while he was unconscious.  They wheeled him back to Merle's room.  On the table waiting for him was his dinner.  It was cheese lasagna.  James wasn't in any condition to eat it.

Before James returned to consciousness, the usual doses of Merle's medications were administered.  Those doses made an ill person like Merle function better.  But for a healthy person like James, it did quite the opposite.  He became manic and paranoid.  It took weeks to get his dosage right such that he was stable.

James' complaint (when he was lucid enough to speak) that 'he was really a doctor here' was treated as just another symptom of his illness.  Additional medications were administered to help with his new delusions.

Merle, posing at Dr. Anderson, didn't fare any better.  James was right.  She quickly deteriorated.  Soon she was back in an assisted care facility.  Just because she still James' live didn't make her any healthier than she was.  Since James used to be a doctor at the facility that Merle was in, it was decided he should be cared for at a different facility.  The new facility wasn't as dedicated, nor as caring as the former one.

End.

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